The road out of Hangzhou is too familiar to me; I quickly fell into a drowsy sleep. My sense of fatigue is no longer like it used to be, overwhelming me like a tide that makes one want to kneel and never get up again. It feels more like a chronic illness—when you think of it, it’s right there, but if you don’t think about it, it doesn’t seem that important.
Throughout this whole affair, I have been simplifying things, moving from complicating matters to now focusing solely on my core purpose. I have asked myself more than once, what do you really want? Do you want answers, or do you want the people around you to be safe?
I want to bring this matter to an end. To completely terminate this endless, cyclical conspiracy that began thousands of years ago. For this, over the past few years, I have shifted the harm onto innocent people. As long as the outcome is good, I am willing to be the last person like Uncle San, even if it brings me self-loathing. But the good thing is that as long as I face these matters head-on, everything will settle down. The bus driver on the circular route finishes his shift when he reaches the end, and can instead enjoy the scenery and listen to music.
It took a week to reach Erdao Baihe, and I stretched the timeline to allow everyone ample rest and to lessen their desires. Erdao Baihe is very lively, with many young people gathering here. It seems that the Changbai Mountain Scenic Area is holding some events. Compared to when I first entered the industry, there are fewer and fewer uninhabited areas in China now; more and more roads are being built, and everyone is rushing to the outskirts. If this continues, what Wang Zanghai once wanted to hide may not last much longer.
After resting for a day, the vanguard set off into the mountains. There’s a hotel called Changbai Song, and the manager has a good relationship with us. The Fatty directly arranged for a temporary headquarters there because there were just too many people; Xiao Hua and the others were scattered in nearby hotels. That night, we had over thirty whole roasted lambs.
The summer in the north is relatively cool. At the outdoor farmhouse, the owner recommended the summer delicacies of prickly ash sprouts and cowhair grass. The Fatty found it strange and said, “Aren’t those just the wild grasses from our backyard? Can we eat those?”
“How can they be wild grasses? They are cultivated and very delicious,” the owner, a big sister, replied. “When your brother comes back, don’t say anything random, or he’ll cut you. He grows them.”
“It’s the era of a market economy; how can we cut customers?” The Fatty was not pleased. After thinking for a moment, he still didn’t eat and tore off a lamb leg instead. The cumin and pepper on top paired with the crispy skin made me salivate as I watched him eat.
“Cutting customers is our farmhouse’s specialty,” the big sister laughed. If she weren’t slightly plump, her figure would be even better than Yajie’s. The Fatty wiped the oil from the corners of his mouth and said to me, “This big sister is already married; let’s not come here to eat anymore. Let’s find another place with younger girls.”
“Lamb meat has a strong essence; you keep staring at others. Your brother is going to cut you,” I chuckled. Just then, Xiao Hua came in through the door, wearing a black leather jacket and carrying two bottles of wine. She asked me why I had picked up a Northeast accent. After moving a stool to sit down, Xiao Hua quietly said, “The vanguard has made a discovery.”
As she spoke, she placed something on the table. The table was a simple iron-legged one made from waste cedar wood, and the stools were the kind with plastic backs commonly used in food stalls. The Fatty had to stack two stools together to sit comfortably.
“It was a strangely shaped arrowhead, identical to the ones I found among my grandfather’s ashes. Those arrowheads had been buried in my grandfather’s body for so many years, and he never mentioned them to anyone. We suspect that these arrowheads came from some unknown ancient tomb, and this tomb must be related to the most core secret.
I remember my mental state when I first saw my grandfather’s urn; even now, seeing this arrowhead still makes my heart feel heavy. The arrowhead is heavily rusted, and there is a lot of decayed wood on it, suggesting it was taken from some wooden material. I looked at Xiaohua, wanting to hear him explain the origins of this arrowhead. Where did it come from?”
This piece was published on October 14, 2014.
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